


Consulting The Clocks

by scorpiofrank



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Depression, M/M, Mental Hospital, Mental Institution, Schizophrenia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-02-25 19:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 11,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2633684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiofrank/pseuds/scorpiofrank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trapped in a mental institution and feeling alone, Gerard finds a new friend who seems to help him cope. But soon everything begins to spiral downward, and he must find a way to escape the terrors of his own mind without harming Frank, his only relief from the nightmares he lives daily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Here," I said, shutting the Batman comic and sliding it across the floor. Bert picked it up and smiled at me, then flipped to a random page.

"I've read this, like, a million times," he said, still intently scanning the illustrations.

"I know," I said, sighing. I hated this place and everyone in it, with the exception of Bert. I couldn't stand the patients, the "nice" doctors, the constant reminder that there was something supposedly wrong with my mind. I would give anything to just be home again, with my own room, time spent alone after school, cigarettes, television, my brother, my iPod, friends - but I couldn't shake the feeling that even though barely a year had passed, they wouldn't care about me anymore. When I got out, if I ever got out, I didn't think they would want to talk to me - who wants to be friends with the crazy kid who had just came from a fucking mental institution?

My thoughts were interrupted when I felt a shadow creep over me and my head jerked up.

"You okay?" asked the new staff member hesitantly. I had seen him yesterday and recognized him from his messy brown hair, prominent shyness, and bicep tattoo he kept trying to cover up. We had people checking on us every half an hour so I had become used to it, and just nodded in response.

"Okay. Um, I'm Brian Schechter. Just let me know if you need anything, I guess," he said politely and left. He seemed nice but I found it odd how he hadn't waited for both of us to respond. I looked at Bert, who shrugged and grinned at me before I could even mention it. Bert was the only reason I was able to survive in this place. We were all nice to each other but he was the only actual friend I had, and I was really grateful that he was my assigned roommate instead of someone like Brendon, who always talked to himself and never shut up, or Pete, the weird emo kid who I heard tried to suffocate his roommate Patrick every other night by smothering him with a pillow.

I watched Bert read the comic book for a few minutes, then noticed the time and got up for my weekly group therapy session. I hated going because I never liked to talk but always had to. Maybe if I had Bert with me it would be somewhat tolerable, but he was in B group and I was in A, so it was always just me, trying to keep my sanity which I was constantly told I had already lost.

I left the room and stepped outside, where I saw some of the staff members quietly talking. Walking slowly and quietly so I could eavesdrop, I headed in their direction.

"What does he have?" asked Shane.

"Depression. Uh specifically...," Zack stopped, skimming through a file, "It says chronic depression, I think that's their new name for dysthymia." He received an approving nod from Bob, then looked back at the contents of the file. "Oh also anxiety, and he's suicidal and self harms too." He shook his head. " _Fucking teenagers_ ," he muttered.

"So he's sharing with the redhead girl or the schizophrenic kid?"

"I don't think we should put two cutters together so let's put him with Way," Bob replied.

"Is he the one with the jet black hair?" Brian asked.

"Uh yeah, Gerard Way."

I stopped in my tracks. I didn't know who this new kid was going to be, but if he was going to be sharing a room with me, that meant Bert was either switching to another room, which never happens; leaving, which didn't make sense because he had never been told he was; or there had been a mistake. I felt like I should say something but I was scared to ask them, and they would know I had been listening to their conversation.

I looked up at the clock. It read 11:29.

_Are you sure?_ , I asked.

Still 11:29. That meant no. I continued walking, hoping they would sort it out.


	2. Chapter 2

"Gerard, it's your turn to talk," said Lindsey Ballato. She was my favorite staff member because unlike the rest of them, she didn't talk shit about us when she thought we couldn't hear. I had started to open up to her a few months after I was admitted but she was always encouraging me to talk to everyone and seemed to be urging me to openly come out when she realized I was gay, so I didn't tell her anything personal anymore.

I felt the rest of my group's eyes on me and slouched down slightly in my chair. I contemplated simply saying no. As always, I looked up at the clock.

11:42.

_So should I talk?_

11:43.

I shifted my gaze to Lindsey and shook my head no. She sighed.

"Do you want to talk about your friends, maybe?" For some reason she was always interested in my friends or "new people" she thought I might have met, even though I was in a fucking mental hospital and never even allowed to step outside of the enclosed area. I shook my head again.

"What about Bert?"

11:44.

"Um, what about him?"

"Can you tell me about him?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess. He has long hair and he's kind of short and he's my best friend..." I started to trail off, slightly confused about what exactly she wanted me to say.

"Oh okay. Did you have any interesting conversations with him recently?"

"We...there's nothing that interesting, really, I don't think, that we talk about. Just like comics, and bands, and tv shows and stuff..."

"Did you see him at all recently?"

"Yeah, we were reading before I came."

"So you saw him today, too?"

I stared at her, confused. "I... I see him every day. He's my roommate?"

She looked at me wide-eyed, her mouth in the shape of an O. "Oh I see, I...okay. That's um, great, Gerard. Thank you," she said, forcing a smile. She turned to Andy, the boy with severe depression. He had been admitted for attempted murder, and Lindsey made him talk about it every week. As he started to retell the story for the thousandth time, I relaxed in my seat and allowed myself to daydream.

I thought about visitor time, the drawing I had yet to finish, Lindsey's strange questions, and how nice it would be to escape when I was jolted back to reality by a piercing scream. Startled, I sat up abruptly and looked around for its source, only to realize it was another auditory hallucination and I had just brought attention to myself again. Andy froze mid-sentence and eyed me cautiously for a second, then continued talking. I tried to listen this time. I had always felt bad for him - he had always been sad, yet extremely attractive, and able to manage the depression when he turned to music and singing, until constant bullying became too much for him to handle and he snapped. Apparently, one bully's mom came home one day and saw Andy pressing a knife to her son's throat, and soon afterwards he was admitted to this psychiatric hospital, where he would be forced to retell the story a million times.

I began daydreaming again, this time about Andy Biersack - fingers tangled in his soft hair, pressing his pretty face down on my bed as I fucked him from behind. My thoughts were interrupted again as the door opened and Bob entered with someone I had never seen before. I realized he was probably the new kid I had heard the staff talking about earlier and hoped the roommate situation had sorted itself out, but looking at him, if I had to share a room with anyone other than Bert I wouldn't mind it being him. He was short with gauges, piercings, and slightly tousled black hair, wearing a sweatshirt with the drawstrings removed and jeans ripped at the knees. He was fucking hot. I tore my eyes away from his perfect face when Bob started to introduce him.

"This is Frank Iero and he's going to be in B group with you guys." He looked at Frank and gestured for him to say something about himself.

"Hi, I'm Frank and they caught me trying to, um, hang myself so...now I'm gonna be coming here," he explained quietly. I gave him a sympathetic half-smile, but he sat down without looking in my direction. I was oddly drawn to him and I wanted to hear more of his low, pleasant voice. I couldn't think about anything but him, even as we were dismissed, and I went to meet Bert at our usual solitary table at the end of the cafeteria for lunch.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke up and the lights were still off, so I shut my eyes and tried to drift off again, knowing that I had more time to sleep. I was already tired and the soft snores coming from the bed beside mine were helping me fall asleep, until my stomach twisted into a knot and my heart started pounding, and I knew something wasn't right.

Bert doesn't snore.

I sat up in my bed and clutched my blanket to my chest. Who the fuck was in my room, and what happened to Bert?

I was scared to get up but I knew whoever it was couldn't be dangerous - I was in a safe facility, and they were sleeping, for fuck's sake. But I squinted at the clock anyway, trying to read it in the darkness. I couldn't tell the exact time, but I could identify the second hand moving towards 8. That was enough confirmation for me.

I got up slowly and walked quietly to the other side of the room. The person was facing away from me and curled up in fetal position. I stood on tiptoes and peered over them, trying to see their face.

Frank. Of course it was Frank, who else would it be? I remembered the staff conversation about putting him in my room and scoffed gently. I was such a dumbass for not immediately realizing it was him.

I was still bent over him when I noticed the absence of snoring, and before I had time to react, felt a sharp blow to the side of my nose.

I staggered backwards as Frank sat up suddenly. It took a minute for both of us to realize what actually happened since we were still in a tired and confused daze.

"Who...," he started, looking at me in disbelief. "Are you okay?!"

I stared at him. My nose was throbbing in pain. I began to stutter, then froze when I felt a weird trickling sensation from my nose. I slowly brought my hand up and touched the bottom of my nostril, and brought my fingers down wet with blood.

The lights flickered on in the hallway and although it was relatively dim, Frank winced from the sudden illumination. I watched him look up at me as his eyes widened and jaw dropped.

"I-I'm bleeding," I said.

He nodded, unable to speak. Looking around himself, he got up as I continued to stand there in shock. Frank retrieved some of the hospital provided clothing and pressed a shirt up to my nose, then led me to my bed, where I laid down and kept my chin up in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

"What did...what were you-"

"I was just checking," I cut him off. "I usually share a room with Bert and I was just wondering who you were and why you were in his bed."

Frank frowned. "I didn't... they told me I was supposed to stay here. I'm sorry, I didn't know and I- I hit you."

"It's okay," I replied, and tried to smile. "My fault. Um, I'm Gerard by the way."

"I'm Frank. I'm so sorry, and that was such a terrible first impression..." He stifled a laugh.

"It's okay," I repeated, grinning. He looked at me with a nervous smile. God, he was just adorable. He had almost broken my nose, and I didn't even care. I just couldn't divert my eyes from his, until I noticed him shift awkwardly and I got up. "I think it's stopped now," I said, moving the shirt away from my face. I didn't feel the blood anymore.

"Um thanks for this," I said, motioning to the hospital shirt before I threw it away.

He laughed. "It's the least I could do," he replied. I smiled back at him as we left the room together for a shower and breakfast.


	4. Chapter 4

"Dude, what happened to you?" asked a shirtless Brendon as we walked towards the men's showers. I realized I still hadn't washed my face, so I probably still looked like a bloody mess. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Frank Iero glancing at me nervously.

"These new meds they put me on. They're really strong so they said I might get nosebleeds sometimes," I lied. Frank looked relieved.

"Did you see Gerard's nose?" Brendon asked himself. "Yeah, he said it was just medication," he replied back to himself. I walked faster to get away from him. I got strange looks from Ryan and Spencer so I covered my face with a hand and rushed into the last available shower.

I felt better when I washed my face and started to turn around to wash my hair when movement caught my eye and I stopped. Through a slight partition in the curtain of the shower across from mine I could see a sliver of Andy Biersack, the hot depressed kid from my therapy group's pale body.

Just two days ago this would have driven me insane, the sight of his wet, thin torso and hips, but right now I wanted nothing more than for it to be Frank Iero in that shower instead. I knew nothing would ever happen between us - he was probably straight, and even if he wasn't he wouldn't want _me_ , but I couldn't stop myself from craving the sight of him.

I looked across again but Andy had pulled the shower curtain over, concealing everything inside. 

I dried myself and got dressed, slipping on a black Joy Division shirt I had borrowed from my brother Mikey and never remembered to give back. Then I headed outside to the cafeteria to go get breakfast.

Bert never showed up. I sat alone, laying my head down on my forearm and abandoning my Honey Nut Cheerios. I didn't mind being alone, I never did, but I had come to the conclusion that Bert had left and was slightly upset he never told me - it wasn't like he didn't know, most people who get to leave know weeks in advance. And he was my best friend, so of course I would miss him.

I brought my head up and twirled my spoon in my cereal, which I didn't feel like eating. I was lonely. I saw Frank sitting a few tables down, not talking but still somehow engaged in Ray Toro and Bob Bryar's conversation. I never talked to them but knew them because they had been here for about ten years. That must be terribly wonderful - to be locked up in a place where it's just you and your own mind for so long time doesn't even have an effect on you. To be trapped here for so long the only memories of reality you have are half false and fragile, like a dream you've already partially forgotten two minutes after you wake up. To not even miss it or long for the way things used to be because you've gotten so accustomed to a tragic state of life that your definition of living is simply not being dead. What if that would be me? It was terrifying. I wanted to get better so badly but I still didn't know what the problem was. Yes, I heard voices occasionally but that couldn't possibly be the only reason I was here. My doctors couldn't be so stupid that they'd diagnose me with schizophrenia because of only one symptom.

It was 9:00. Breakfast was over. I dumped my cereal in the trash and watched the drops of milk drip down to the bottom of the trash can. I threw away the metal spoon, too, just because I was upset, then wondered about the different ways I could have killed myself with it if I had kept it. I was always thinking of ways to die but I wasn't even suicidal. What the hell was wrong with me? Why couldn't anyone fix it?


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey," whispered someone behind me, as I was walking to my daily therapy session. I turned around to face the empty hallway. There was no one there.

"Hey," the voice whispered again. I ignored it.

"Gerard."

I covered both ears with my hands as I passed the patient rooms. The voice kept repeating my name. I saw Frank looking at me strangely through the window in our door as I passed by.

"Hey." 

I felt a tap on my shoulder. Trembling in fear, I slowly turned around. 

It was a girl. Her face was distorted and her eyes were black. I swallowed hard, terrified. She shrieked in my face and everything started to spin. The world seemed to fade away as everything turned to darkness and my legs gave in. I felt myself drop to the floor in my last second of consciousness, then passed out.

When I opened my eyes, Frank and Lindsey were hovering over me. Frank's hand was under my head - he must have saved me from hitting my head on the concrete floor and getting a concussion or even fracturing my skull. Lindsey whispered something almost inaudible to him and he nodded, helping me up and guiding me to our room with his hand on my shoulder blade. If I wasn't feeling so weak, I'm sure I would have been feeling fireworks exploding inside me from just his touch.

I sat down slowly on my bed and gave him a fragile smile. He smiled back, then sat down beside me.

"What happened?" he asked, concerned.

"I don't know," I replied, looking away. "I was seeing shit and all of a sudden I just got really dizzy and like, passed out."

Frank looked at me sympathetically. "Sorry," he said quietly.

"It's fine," I replied. We sat in silence for a minute. I wondered what was on his mind and how he must be thinking I was a freak.

"Do you...," he began. "I mean, what's it like?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Like, does the stuff you see look real? How can you tell that it's not?"

I looked at him. "Yeah, I guess, it seems pretty real. And um, I _can't_ tell. That's what scares me," I said softly. Frank looked at me, expecting me to elaborate. I didn't really know how to explain, but I considered telling him part of the actual truth.

_Can I tell him about you?_ I glanced at the clock.

2:07.

"It's kind of hard to explain," I told Frank. He nodded, showing that he understood.

2:08. I had done the right thing.

"Oh, um by the way, Lindsey told me to tell you you don't have to go to therapy today, you should just, you know, get some rest or something," Frank said, getting up. "I think I'm gonna go watch tv."

"Can I come?" I asked hesitantly. I wanted to leave the small room - just the sight of it was starting to make me feel sick.

"Sure," he replied, and we walked out to the tv room together.

Ryan and Brendon were there watching the news intently, listening to a discussion about a state which had refused to legalize gay marriage.

"Good," Brendon said to himself. "Homosexuality is a sin."

"Homophobia is gay," Frank retorted. I stared at him, shocked at his audacity.

" _Shut up, fag_ ," Brendon muttered, eyes still glued to the tv.

"I'm bisexual, actually," Frank replied boldly. "And I'm not going to, you homophobic asshole."

Brendon threw the remote down and stormed out. My heart was pounding. If Frank wasn't straight, that meant I actually had a chance.

We stayed together for the remainder of free time and outside time, sitting in the grass and talking about music since he had mentioned the band shirt I was wearing. Talking with Frank about Joy Division and the Misfits, I was the happiest I had been in weeks and didn't ever want to give up this feeling. There seemed to be a new brightness in his hazel eyes too, although he was still somewhat distant. Frank was nice, extremely attractive, genuine, and caring. I liked him, I really did. I started to believe he was the only one whose company I longed for, until I was reunited with an old friend.


	6. Chapter 6

I woke up the next morning after having a dream about Mikey. We were at Starbucks, just sitting together and talking, but it was the best dream I had had in months. I missed that kid so much, my stomach twisted whenever I thought about him because I knew it could be a few years before I even saw him again. My mom would occasionally visit me in the hospital but through the letters we wrote to each other he explained to me that she would never let him come. It didn't make sense, but I was guessing she didn't want him to end up insane like me, and thought separating us would be the best way to prevent it.

I turned to the side, and was suddenly face to face with Bert McCracken. I jumped up from my bed in surprise, waking him up.

"Bert?!" I whispered loudly. I glanced over at Frank, who was still sound asleep. "What the hell? Why are you in my bed?"

"There's some guy in mine so I thought you wouldn't mind," he whispered in response.

"I- I don't, but I thought you had left or something. Frank is my new roommate now, since you just disappeared!"

"I'm sorry. It was just-"

"Gerard?" said a voice from the other side of the room. Frank was awake, sitting on his bed with a concerned expression. "Who are you talking to?"

"Frank," I started, unsure of how to explain the situation. "Um, well I think I told you about Bert, who I shared a room with before? He's back, so I'm not sure if he's supposed to stay here or..." I trailed off, feeling unsure because of the lack of a response from him. He just stared at me, expressionless. I realized he might have thought I was implying that I wanted him to leave, but that wasn't true. I didn't think he would get upset so easily without even asking me to clarify either, but- 

"Gerard," Frank said, interrupting my worried thoughts. "There's no one there."

I was taken aback. Was this his idea of humor? I didn't find it funny that he was making a joke out of my mental illness.

"Stop," I said, glaring at him. "That's not funny."

"It wasn't a joke," he said slowly. "There's really no one else here besides you and me."

"Bert, say something," I pleaded, realizing he had been strangely quiet this whole time. He shook his head.

"He's not.....he's not saying anything. Bert please say something!" I cried in distress. He continued shaking his head and refused to speak. Frank came over to me and sat down beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Hey it's okay," he said, trying to console me, although he looked worried himself.

"No," I said. He was lying, he had to be. I looked at Bert, who was just standing there grinning at me.

I turned to the clock, my most reliable form of communication with the only one who always told me the truth.

_He's real, right?_

It was 8:19.

"You don't exist," I said to Bert, as I let the truth sink in. He didn't move. It all started to make sense - Lindsey's questions about him, the way everyone seemed to ignore him, his random disappearance... I whimpered and Frank placed his hand on top of mine. I slowly turned to him.

"Are you real?" I asked Frank softly, bringing my hands up to touch his face. He flinched slightly but didn't move away.

"Yes," he replied. How did I know he was telling the truth?

It was still 8:19.

"You’re lying," I said to him. Frank's eyes widened.

"No I'm not, Gerard! I'm real, I-," he tried to explain. I got up and ran outside, running all the way down to the end of the hallway where the staff offices were. 

I didn't know who to trust anymore. It would only make sense if they had both lied, and my stomach felt uneasy as I realized that meant the only friends I ever had existed solely in my mind. I didn't want to be alone. I needed someone to refute me.

I approached Lindsey's office, stopped, and knocked frantically on the door. She opened it after a few seconds and noticed my panicked expression.

"Gerard? What's wrong?" she asked, sounding concerned.

"Is Bert real? Tell me the truth," I demanded. She looked startled and opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"Tell me!"

She shook her head.

"Is Frank real?" I asked her apprehensively.

“Yes, he is,” she said.

I breathed a sigh of relief. But that could only mean one thing. Feeling hurt, I looked around for a clock and saw one on Lindsey's desk.

_You lied to me. You never lie to me._

8:21.

_Is Lindsey real?_

It was still 8:21. I understood now.

"Nothing is real," I stated, accidentally out loud.

8:22.

Lindsey was saying something to me but I wasn't paying attention. I ran out of the room and into the bathroom, where I locked myself in a stall. I had nowhere to go and no one I could trust.

I couldn't stay in here forever. A sense of dread filled me as I realized there was nowhere to hide.

The door of the stall next to mine slammed open and I jumped. From under the door I saw feet coming towards the one I was in. Whoever it was attempted to open it but I resisted, pushing the door closed from the inside.

"Hey it's just me, Bob. It's okay. You need to open this door," he said firmly.

"No!" I screamed. He wasn't real. Nobody was real. I couldn't let him get to me.

I felt suffocated and my palms began to sweat. If nobody was real, did that mean _I_ wasn't real? I couldn't even ask - the stalls didn't have clocks inside of them.

"Gerard. Open the door."

What did it mean if I wasn't real? Was everything a dream? Or was I a figment of my own imagination? But if I didn't exist, how would I be able to dream or imagine? The only conclusions I could form were paradoxical and nothing made sense. 

Bob was pounding on the door and I felt flooded with fear. Suddenly, the banging stopped. I was confused - he wouldn't just leave. I felt my heart beat in anticipation.

The sound of footsteps began to come closer and there was a clicking sound outside the bathroom stall. The door swung open and in front of me was Bob, holding a strange tool.

The lock could open from the outside. How had I never realized that? 

"Come on," Bob coaxed and took me by the arm. I was completely helpless. He was stronger than me so I couldn't fight back and there was nowhere to run to. I didn't know where he was taking me but I knew I couldn't escape.

 _Help me_ , I begged, when I passed a clock in the hallway.

It was 8:25. I was fucked.


	7. Chapter 7

"Here you go," Lindsey said, placing two pink pills in my hand. "You're going to be taking your second dose around this time from now on."

I stared at the medicine on my palm. I didn't want it. They were convinced I had a schizophrenic "psychotic episode" and thought keeping me in a solitary room for two hours and prescribing new meds would make me forget the truth I had uncovered.

"Gerard, you need to swallow it. I have to make sure you take it before we can have our therapy session," Lindsey explained. Reluctantly, I took the medicine. If necessary, I could make myself throw it up in the bathroom later.

We went to the therapy room and sat down. I always chose the same seat because it was directly opposite the large clock on the wall.

_Am I allowed to talk about you?_

It was 11:02. I was shocked because I had never been granted permission to even mention his existence before.

"Would you be okay with talking about what happened earlier today?" Lindsey asked. I nodded hesitantly.

"Let's start with what happened before you came to me. What made you find out about Bert, how he wasn't really there?"

"Frank told me," I replied.

"I see. And then you weren't sure if he was there either."

"I knew he wasn't real, cause I asked-" I froze when I saw it was 11:03. I wasn't allowed to explain further.

"Who did you ask?" Lindsey questioned, puzzled. I shook my head. I was so afraid that I couldn't even conjure up a reasonable sounding lie. I had almost talked about him. His identity was the one thing he was most protective of. If I accidentally let anything slip out, he would kill me.

"Gerard, what were you going to say?"

I shook my head again and slouched in my chair.

"Gerard, tell me," Lindsey said firmly. I really wanted to tell her. I didn't like keeping this all to myself, but I didn't want to die. I stared at the clock until it showed a minute had passed and ended in an even number again.

"Gerard-," she started again but I cut her off and, without thinking, blurt out an explanation.

"Frank's not real, you're not real, I don't even think I'm real. Nothing is real. It's the only thing that makes sense. He doesn't lie to me, he could never lie to me."

"Who?"

"I- I don't know his name or what he is, but he's there and, like, omniscient or something and he always tells me the right thing so I have to ask him before I do anything. He just wants to help me, but when I don't listen, bad things happen. Now I know what he's been trying to tell me all this time. This is the answer I've been looking for."

"Do you visually see this man?"

"No, but I have other ways to communicate with him. He talks to me through numbers, even means yes and odd means no, so he can answer my questions."

"Is that...is that why you look at the time so often? To see what numbers are in it?"

"Yeah. I have to ask him permission for everything."

"So you're always consulting the clocks before you say or do anything? Isn't that difficult? Why do you feel you have to do this?"

"Because I-"

It was 11:05. I didn't want to have looked but I wasn't able to stop myself. I had already said too much and he was forbidding me from speaking further. Lindsey was looking at me expectantly, but seemed to have understood and turned around to read the time.

"11:05. So that means..." she trailed off, waiting for me to explain. I swallowed hard and tried to stay calm.

"It means I said too much and I wasn't supposed to tell you anything, but I did anyway and now he's gonna get mad, and I told you about him, and he's gonna kill me," I rambled and covered my face with my hands. "Oh god, Lindsey, he's gonna kill me."

"It's okay, Gerard, he's not going to do anything. He can't hurt you-"

"Yes, he can!" I shouted. I couldn't listen to her ignorant lies anymore. I had made a mistake and could do nothing now but await the consequences.

I got up and walked out, ignoring Lindsey calling my name. I went into my room where Frank was writing something and sat down near him.

"Hey," he said, closing his journal and extending his arms towards me. I scooted closer to him and he held me. Lindsey stepped inside but saw that I was okay and quietly left. I felt a tear fall out onto his shoulder and Frank tightened his grip slightly. He cared. Even if he wasn't real, he was there for me. I smiled and hugged him back.


	8. Chapter 8

I gasped for air and suddenly sat up, panting. It was probably sometime around midnight and I had already woken up from three night terrors. As my breathing became steady, I calmed down and stayed still for a few minutes. There was quiet sobbing coming from across the room.

I strained to see Frank in the darkness. He was sitting on his bed and crying softly. I realized that amidst all my problems I had never been attentive to his. He must have been going through a lot too, and I had never comforted him the way he did to me. Maybe having some company would help him.

"Hey Frank," I whispered. "Are you awake?"

He quickly wiped the tears from his eyes. "Yeah," he said.

"I can't sleep. Can I come over there?" I asked hesitantly.

"Sure," he replied.

I walked over to his bed and he moved his blanket so I could get in.

"Thanks," I told him, laying next to him. Our noses were nearly touching, we were so close. I turned slightly and felt something poke my head.

"Ow," I said, lifting myself up. "What is that?"

"What?" Frank asked, getting up as well. I pulled something out from under the pillow.

"Oh, that's where I put it!" Frank exclaimed, taking the object from my hand. His eyes seemed to light up. "It's um, eyeliner," he explained nervously.

"No way," I said. "They let you have it?"

"No," he replied, grinning. "I stole it, from Hayley."

I laughed. "That's awesome. They got suspicious when I tried to bring some, since I wasn't a girl and they didn't believe it was just for my eyes."

"Yeah, that's exactly what they told me. I can't believe you wear eyeliner, too," he said. I felt his legs touching mine.

"Yeah, I do. It's different and I think it looks good. What else did you steal?" I asked.

"I've got a drawer full of stuff I took," he admitted.

"Really?" I asked in amazement.

"Yeah, this one," he said, pointing at the second drawer on the side of the bed. "I have two comic books, candy, the lip ring they took from me, three colored felt tip pens, pencil sharpeners..."

"Where did you get pencils from? They only let us use the soft pens so we won't stab anyone. I've really wanted them for drawing!" I exclaimed.

"No, not pencils, just the sharpeners. I took them off of the staff's desks," he explained.

"Oh, well those are useless then," I told him. I reached over and felt for the drawer handle. "I wanna see," I said.

"No, wait-" He tried to stop me but it was too late. I pulled the drawer open and froze. On one side was his mess of stolen items but on the other was six shining pieces of metal. I started to feel sick when I realized they were blades.

I shut the drawer and turned to Frank, who was looking away in shame. I reached up and hugged him.

"I'm so sorry," I said. "I had no idea..."

He pulled away. "You're not...mad at me or anything?" he asked in astonishment.

"Of course not," I replied. "Why the hell would I get mad at you for it? I just really wish you didn't do that to yourself, and I'm sorry you feel the need to."

He gave me a small, thankful smile and slid down, patting the bed beside him to tell me to lay down next to him. I did, and he intertwined his legs with mine and held my arm. I rested my other hand on his. My heart was beating so fast I thought my insides would explode.

"I'm getting better," Frank whispered. "I promise."

"Then I'm proud of you," I replied. Forget fireworks, I was feeling fucking rocket ships launching in my stomach. He was warm and I liked the feeling of our bodies touching.

Suddenly, I felt soft lips pressing hard against mine. My eyes widened in shock. Before I could respond further, Frank pulled away.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I just-"

I interrupted him by kissing him back. This time, it was longer and passionate. He tasted fucking good, and I wanted to make it last.

"You're really cute," I told him, holding him again.

"You are too," he said, laughing. He kissed me on the nose, and soon afterwards we fell asleep, curled up against each other.


	9. Chapter 9

The medicine was making me change. Over the next few days I stopped hallucinating but the clocks became erratic. They were habitually lying to me and I couldn't get a straight answer through them for even the most simple questions. Our communication system seemed to be falling apart and I didn't know what to do. I had become so dependent on him to give me permission to do anything that I felt uncomfortable even breathing without asking him first. Lindsey claimed I was getting better but Frank realized something was slightly wrong and asked me if I was okay whenever he noticed I was acting strangely. I lied and told him I was fine every time, although I was often on the verge of a panic attack.

I couldn't help it. I was afraid I was still expected to follow his instructions even though he couldn't clearly convey them to me through the time anymore.

I picked myself up off the floor, feeling weak and slightly dizzy. I had left to go to the bathroom when I felt my heart pounding and my body starting to tremble uncontrollably after speaking at my group therapy session, and not being able to rely on him to tell me what I was supposed to say. As soon as I reached there I began hyperventilating and must have eventually passed out. It was the fourth time this had happened, and I didn't know who to ask for help to make the attacks stop.

I held the bathroom counter for balance and waited until I felt strong enough to walk back to therapy. When I entered the room, Lindsey asked me what took so long and I lied and told her I stopped to talk to a staff member. I sat back down next to Frank.

"Did you pass out again?" he whispered, looking concerned. I nodded. He reached for my fingers and held my hand. Lindsey was too busy talking to Andy about his attempted murder to take note.

"I've heard this story so many fucking times," Frank muttered.

"He's been telling it every week since he's been admitted," I told him. He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

I placed my head on Frank's shoulder and sighed. I just wanted to leave - listening to everyone else's problems wasn't helping me forget my own.

"Are you feeling better now?" he asked.

"Yeah," I lied. I fell asleep on his shoulder and he woke me up when it was time to leave. We went to the art room, where we had been drawing together.

"Hey, I finished," I told him, flipping open my sketchbook to the drawing of him I had completed. I passed it over to him, and he looked at it and smiled.

"This is really good," he said, eyes fixated on the image. "Can I keep this?"

"Yeah, it's for you," I told him. He thanked me and kissed me in return. Shane, who was supervising us, noticed and opened his mouth to object, but didn't say anything.

"Let's go back to our room, I wanna tape this on the wall. It's amazing," Frank said.

"Thank you," I told him, getting up. We headed back and he taped the drawing near his bed.

"Perfect," he said, and kissed me again. I felt his tongue enter my mouth and I returned it with mine. We kissed for a few seconds, then he looked up at me and smiled.

"I like you a lot," he said. "And I'm happy I met you. You..." he trailed off. I looked at him expectantly.

"You make me feel a lot better. Like, you make the numbness go away. And no one's ever done that."

"Tell me about it. You can open up to me," I told him.

He pursed his lips. "No," he responded, "I don't want to talk about it. Right now I'm happy," he said smiling. He pushed me down onto the bed and pressed his lips onto mine, tugging on the collar of my button-up shirt. The sound of footsteps approached our door and he pulled away quickly as it opened. It was Brian, coming to check on us.

"Are you guys okay?" he asked. We nodded. As soon as he left I turned to Frank and stifled a laugh.

He eyed me for a second, then suddenly pushed me down again, kissing me and unbuttoning my shirt. I clawed at his t-shirt and he removed it as well, throwing it on the floor. Our lips pressed together once again and I gasped as his soft kisses slowly traveled down the side of my neck and his hands slid down my bare chest and to my belt, which he unbuckled swiftly. Frank slid off my jeans and his mouth traced down the center of my torso to the waistband of my boxers. With his teeth, he pulled them off and I let out a soft moan as his tongue approached the base of my hard cock. Resting one of his hands on my side as he held it with the other, I felt his wet lips on my member as he sucked on its head.

"You taste so fucking good, Gee," Frank whispered.

I whimpered in response, so enthralled in the way he was pleasing me that I was unable to speak.

He pulled me up off of the bed and sank to his knees, pushing me towards him with his hands pressing against the small of my back as he continued to suck on my cock. I placed a hand on his head, intertwining my fingers with his slight curls, and tugged on his hair.

"Fuck, Frankie," I murmured. He smirked and went faster, his lips gliding back and forth. My back arched forward slightly and my heavy breathing became audible as I felt myself on the brink of an orgasm.

"Cum in my fucking mouth," Frank commanded. I couldn't resist; I could feel the pleasure pulsing through my veins until I came, the white and sticky substance dripping down the sides of Frank's pretty mouth as he licked the head of my cock clean. He stood up and I kissed him hard.

"Your turn," I breathed, tugging at the waist of his jeans. He smiled and locked his lips with mine again.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door. "Is Frank in here?" a feminine voice asked. He froze, staring at the door with a confused expression for a second, then turned to the clock.

"Shit," he whispered, realizing the time. "Fuck, I forgot about therapy!" My eyes widened.

"I'm coming," he called. I grinned. "Shut up," he told me, jokingly.

I passed his shirt to him and dressed myself as he went and opened the door.

"What happened? You're late for th-," Lindsey started.

"Yeah I know, I'm sorry, I forgot," Frank apologized, walking out with her. He looked back at me and smiled slightly, biting his lip.

I smiled back, standing there in solitude. I was already craving the warm touch of his skin. I sat down and picked up one of my sketchbooks and a felt tip pen, absent-mindedly drawing a figure that began to look strikingly similar to the familiar shape of Frank's face. After filling it in with his beautiful features, I tore out the page and placed it on the pillow on his bed, where I laid down and waited for him to return, falling into a gentle sleep in the process.


	10. Chapter 10

"Gerard?"

There was someone gently stroking my hair. I opened my eyes.

"Why are you sleeping in my messy bed?" Frank laughed. I shrugged my shoulders.

"I dunno," I said, playing with his fingers. "Lay down with me," I pleaded. He pushed aside the blanket resting on top of me and laid beside me, his hazel eyes meeting mine.

"Sorry I took so long," he said.

I stared at him with a blank expression. "Wait, how long has it been?"

"Two hours," he replied.

"Why did she make you stay for that long?" I asked in surprise.

"She just, um, was talking to me about stuff," he said, pulling the long sleeves of his hoodie over his hands.

"Frank, what happened?" I asked, concerned.

"It's nothing," he replied. "They just, you know, want me to come in for therapy longer now."

"Why?"

"Um, well Lindsey says I'm getting worse."

I frowned. "Are you?" I asked, genuinely worried. He hadn't said anything to me about feeling upset, and to me he seemed to be fine, if not better.

"No. I don't know why they think that," he said, looking at his hands.

"You would tell me, right? If anything happened, or if you were feeling worse?" I asked hesitantly.

"Of course," Frank said and kissed me on the cheek. I held his hands and he smiled.

"Guess what?" he asked.

"What?"

"So Lindsey stepped out for a few minutes to talk to this other staff member about the new guy, um, Brian, and I overheard. Apparently they're together. And they're fucking. They literally do it in her office."

"What?!" I exclaimed.

"That's not even the best part. They try, um, weird things. She was like, going into detail and shit." He reached into his pocket and smirked. "And guess what I found in her drawer?" He pulled out a white bottle and handed it to me. Confused, I took it and read the label.

"You found lube?!" I exclaimed. My jaw dropped. He nodded.

"And I can't believe you just took it!"

"Of course I did! Now we can have some fun," he said, raising an eyebrow.

I laughed and kissed him. "You're awesome," I said. He smiled. "Don't worry about Lindsey and everyone else. They don't know shit. They can't fix us, they just like to think they're actually doing something and drug us when they don't want to admit they're incompetent. Fuck that. You'll be okay," I told him, squeezing his hand.

"I _am_ okay," he said. "I'm fine. What about you though?"

"What about me?" I asked, puzzled. "I'm fine, too."

"No you're not," Frank scoffed. "You're always falling asleep and have panic attacks on a daily basis. And I still see you looking at the clock every few minutes. I thought you were getting better?"

"I am," I protested. "It just takes some getting used to. And I seem tired 'cause I can't sleep at night anymore. I'm sorry." 

"Don't apologize," Frank said quietly. "Do you have nightmares, or tremors, or something?" 

"They're not tremors," I said slowly, shaking my head. "They're worse than tremors. They're like these terrors, and it feels like as if somebody's gripping my throat. And I can't breathe so I wake up. And sometimes I see people that I love dying and-," I pressed my eyelids shut, feeling myself tearing up. "And most of the time it's me who's killing them," I whispered.

Frank kissed me on the forehead and wrapped his arms around me. I was trembling and couldn't stop myself from shaking. I didn't want to think about the dreams anymore but it was too late and the words were spewing out of my mouth.

"I'm so sorry," Frank mumbled.

"Sometimes it's you," I blurted. He looked at me, confused. "Sometimes it's you, and sometimes it's my brother Mikey, and sometimes it's Bert, and sometimes it's my old friends, and sometimes it's just random people I recognize and don't really know but I would never hurt them. I think he makes me hurt them." I stared at Frank. "What if...what if he's warning me," I stated, shocked. "What if he'll really make me kill all my friends and I-"

"Shh," Frank whispered, holding me tighter. "Gerard, stop. That's not gonna happen, no one can-"

I was hyperventilating, and he stopped abruptly when he saw me gasping for air. I tossed the blanket on top of me to the side and ran out of the room, feeling like I just had to get away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him sitting up on the bed, face buried in his hands.

I pushed open the doors leading out of the building and entered the enclosed area designated for outside time. I sat down and tried to catch my breath, fearing that I would pass out again. As I felt myself calm down, a feeling of guilt washed over me as I realized Frank was crying when I left our room. He was only trying to help, and I just ran away from him.

I went back inside, ready to apologize, but he wasn't there. I walked around the strangely vacant back end of the hospital, then realized it was dinner time and he was likely eating in the cafeteria. Frank was sitting alone at our usual table, pushing around his food with his fork.

"Frank, I'm so sorry, I-"

"It's okay," he said, gently. "Sit with me." I pulled back a chair and sat down. He passed me his plate. "Here, you can have this, I'm not hungry."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yeah," he replied.

I reached for it, then halted when I noticed the fresh scars on his forearm where his sleeve was slightly pulled back. His eyes widened and he quickly took his arm off of the table, setting it on his lap and pulling down his sleeve. I opened my mouth to say something, but Frank shot me a guilty look and I hesitated, knowing that nothing I could say would change what had already happened.

"You can tell me anything, Frank."

He nodded, his eyes unable to meet mine.


	11. Chapter 11

"Frankie, can I borrow a sweater?" I asked, rummaging through the thin clothes in my drawer.

"Yeah," he responded, not looking up from whatever he was writing in his journal. "First drawer."

I sorted through his clothes when something bright red caught my eye. Confused, I pulled the long piece of fabric out. It looked like a tie, but there was something weird about it. I turned it upside down and stared at it. My heart sank as I realized that it was a tie - likely stolen since we weren't allowed to have them - tied into a noose.

"You find one?" Frank asked from across the room.

I shoved it back into the drawer and quickly took out a black sweater. "Yeah," I replied. "Thanks." He looked up at me and smiled. I pretended not to see and turned away, not wanting him to notice the tears in my eyes.

I should have kept it. I should have stuffed it in my pocket or something so he wouldn't have it anymore. I should have done something other than put it back where it would be easily accessible for him so he could use it to fucking kill himself when he decided it was time.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," I told him. "And I have therapy today, so I guess I'll just go there afterwards."

"Okay. See you at lunch then, Gee."

I walked out, still avoiding eye contact with him. I couldn't bring myself to say anything to him, and felt sick knowing that he had always listened to everything I had to say and comforted me every time I needed him, while I wasn't even strong enough to try to stop him from attempting suicide. I wasn't even trustworthy enough for him to tell me about it.

I stepped inside the shower and let the cool droplets of water wash upon my face as I cried. I finally felt somewhat relaxed as I closed my eyes and concentrated on taking deep breaths. I knew I had to do something. But a strong feeling in my gut warned me that no matter what action I chose to take, it was too late.


	12. Chapter 12

"Okay, and are you sleeping properly at night?" Lindsey asked. She had been asking me habitually about side effects of the new medicine I was taking.

I shook my head absent-mindedly.

"Are you unable to fall asleep? Do you continually wake up?"

I didn't respond, and continued staring off into space.

"Gerard."

"Nightmares," I replied. "Nightmares, or night terrors, whatever."

Lindsey put down her clipboard and looked me in the eye. "Gerard. We've wasted half an hour already and I haven't even gotten through these ten-minute questions. You're not even listening to me. What's wrong?"

"I need to go back," I answered. "I have to go back, it's...it's Frank, there's something wrong and I just need to be there with him. Please don't say anything to him, but I just don't think he should be alone right now."

She nodded, biting her lip. "Yeah, I know he's having some issues right now. I think you're right."

"I'll tell him that we finished early so I came back." I said quickly.

"Yeah. Okay, then, I'm letting you go this time. But if anything happens or you notice anything wrong, you come and get me right away, okay? And if he gets worse by tomorrow you let me know. I'll have to prescribe something else..." she trailed off.

I left the therapy room and walked briskly to mine. I opened the door slowly and walked in.

My jaw dropped when I saw Frank. He was staring at his arms, covered in blood, with tears streaming down his face.

"Frank," I cried, stepping towards him.

He slowly turned to face me and froze. "You're...y-you weren't supposed to be back yet," he stuttered. I brought a trembling hand up to my mouth as I saw the blood pouring out of the deep cuts in his arms. A shining silver blade fell out of his palm and onto the blood-stained floor.

I quickly grabbed a t-shirt from my drawer and wiped his arms, but they wouldn't stop bleeding.

"Come on," I said, taking him outside of the room and into the hallway.

Brendon noticed us as he exited the bathroom. "Dude," he remarked. I glared at him.

"It's probably a sign," he told himself. "Maybe 'cause he's a satanic emo homosexual-"

"Fuck off, Brendon," I growled. He moved out of the way, allowing us to go inside.

I turned on the sink and washed Frank's arms. Looking up into the mirror, I saw he was still crying. I wiped away his tears. "It's okay," I told him. "I'm gonna clean you up, okay?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, shaking. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."

I kissed him and he stopped apologizing.

He was staring down at his arms, where the bleeding had stopped with the exception of one deep wound at his wrist. I pressed the damp t-shirt against the cut, holding it down until the blood flow stopped, then washed it again.

"Hey, are you guys okay?," Shane asked, running into the bathroom. "Brendon told me there w-"

"We're fine," I responded, hiding the blood-soaked shirt behind my back. "Everything's fine. Brendon was probably hallucinating or something."

Shane nodded. "And, um, is he..." he started, motioning to stiff, teary-eyed Frank.

"I said he's fine."

"Alright," Shane said. "Just tell me, you know, if anything-"

"Okay," I snapped. He forced a smile and walked out.

I turned to Frank and wrapped my arms around him. He hugged me back tightly, clinging to me.

"Let's go back, okay?" I whispered. He nodded into my shoulder. I ran my fingers through his soft hair and slowly pulled away, holding his hand and walking back to our room with him.


	13. Chapter 13

"Um, I saw the drawing you put on my pillow," Frank said quietly, shifting awkwardly in his seated position on my bed beside me. "It was really good. I'll put it up on the wall too," he said, looking down at his feet, "you know, when I find some tape."

I smiled. "Thanks," I replied. He shifted closer to me and placed his head on my shoulder and I embraced him.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too, Frank." I pressed my eyelids shut. "But you promised..."

"I know, I- I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking.

"Why don't you trust me?" I whispered.

"Of course I trust you," he replied, looking up at me. "I trust you, and I- I don't know what I'd do without you, but I didn't know how to tell you how much worse everything became, and I didn't want to hurt you, and you were already going through so much shit and I didn't think burdening you with all of my problems too would help."

"Frank, you're so much more important to me than some stupid panic attacks and nightmares. Forget anything I'm going through, I'm there for you and I always will be." I brushed his messy black hair away from his face. "Will you tell me about it now? What the hell is going on?"

He bit his lip. "Yeah, okay. Um, so you know how I'm here because my mom walked in on me trying to hang myself, right? It wasn't the first time - whenever I had a few hours alone at home, I did it. I really fucking tried, Gerard. Partial hanging is fucking hard, but I didn't have a better way to do it. I just wanted to kill myself so badly. I don't know what's wrong with me and it's been this way for years, I just really want to die. And now I can't, 'cause everyone's always fucking checking on me, and they just keep prescribing shit which doesn't work. The suicidal feelings aren't just gonna go away. All I can do is watch my life flow out of my veins a little at a time as I make myself bleed." He stopped. "And there's something else you should probably know. I was gonna try again. I made a-, " he froze when he saw me nodding. "You knew about it?" he asked, his eyes wide.

"This morning," I answered quietly. "I was so distraught and I didn't know what to do with it, I'm sorry."

I avoided his gaze and stared at the floor for a few seconds.

"What do I do?" he whispered, breaking the silence.

"You tell Lindsey," I replied. "You tell her how shitty you feel and you tell her the pills aren't working. And you're gonna have to tell her about the cutting."

"They're gonna know about the blades I took, though," he interjected.

"I know. It's okay, I don't think you'll get in trouble. They'll probably just take them away though." He nodded. "Try to forget about what happened today, okay?"

"Yeah," he breathed, locking lips with me. I kissed him, loving the taste of his lips against mine. He pulled back slightly.

"Can we _both_ pretend nothing happened today?" Frank asked quietly.

"If you promise it's never gonna happen again, and that you'll always tell me," I responded.

"I swear it won't, and yes, I will."

I nodded.

"Fuck me," Frank pleaded, tugging at my shirt.


	14. Chapter 14

I kissed him hard and he pushed me onto the bed. He brushed a finger down the side of my face.

"You're so pretty, Gee," he said, standing over me and playing with my hair. "I take back what I said. _I'm_ fucking _you_."

I smirked and pulled him closer to me. He pulled off my shirt and undressed himself.

"Hold on," he said, walking over to his side of the room and searching for something in his drawer. I sat up, watching him and staring at his perfect ass. He pulled out his stolen lube and kicked the drawer shut, then came back over to me and placed it down beside the bed. He ran his fingers through my hair, then gripped it tight and brought my head closer to him. I knew what he was implying and willingly opened my mouth, letting his hard cock enter inside. He mumbled something and pulled my hair harder. I sucked and he thrusted in my mouth, moaning with pleasure.

I let my lips glide back and forth on his cock as his breathing became heavier, then pulled back and licked its pink head. "Fuck, Gerard," he breathed.

I started to suck once again, but he pulled away, leaving me confused with my mouth still open. He kissed my jaw, then unbuckled my belt and slid off my torn black jeans.

"Turn around," he commanded.

I did as he told, and positioned myself on my hands and knees while facing the other way. From behind, he kissed my shoulder and sucked on my neck. I gasped as his cold hands traveled down my naked back and he slid a finger down to my asshole.

"Frank, I've never-"

"It's okay," he coaxed, cutting me off, "we'll figure it out. We'll go slow. It just feels so right though, doesn't it?" 

He coated his finger in lube and stuck it inside me. I bit my lip as he went a little deeper.

"You okay?" he asked. I nodded.

"Good," he replied, putting in a second finger. I squirmed this time. It had started to hurt a little. I obviously wasn't used to this.

He pulled his fingers out and picked up the bottle of lube again. "Ready?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. I would be fine. I wanted this. I wanted him - more than anything.

He rubbed lube onto his cock and I braced myself as he entered me slowly. It definitely hurt. I squeezed my eyes shut as he went a little bit deeper. He moaned softly and grabbed my hair again.

"You still good?" he asked.

"Mhm," I answered, pressing my lips together as well.

He began to thrust, pulling my head back by the thin strands of my jet black hair. I whimpered from the pain, but it wasn't audible over his moans as he continued to fuck me. Unintentionally, he went even deeper, and I suddenly felt an intense bout of pleasure.

"Oh my god," I breathed, tilting my head down and closing my eyes.

"What?" Frank asked, hesitating.

"Nothing, keep going," I said. "Just right there. It feels so fucking good," I mumbled.

Frank smirked and thrusted harder in that exact spot, until he was literally grinding on my prostate.

"Fuck," I cried out. I touched myself, sliding my hand up my thigh and wrapping my fingers around my erection. I let my hand slide down my length and then back up again, repeating the motion and picking up the pace.

Frank pulled my hair harder and let his other hand glide down the side of my body.

"You're so pale," he whispered. "I love it."

I shivered as his cold fingers continued touching my skin and his moans increased in volume, harmonizing with mine.

"Oh god, Gerard. Fuck, I'm-"

I gasped as I felt him cum inside of me. Frank threw his head back and didn't stop thrusting until his orgasm ended, then slowed down and pulled out. He kissed my neck and traced his finger down my spine, then grabbed the base of my cock and moved my own hand away, and finished getting me off. I came all over the bed, and whimpered as I felt the warm rush of blood to my head and immense pleasure flowing through my body.


	15. Chapter 15

We sprawled on the bed, tired, after cleaning up and dressing ourselves again. My head rested on Frank's chest as his fingers brushed through my hair.

"I'm just surprised nobody came to check on us," he laughed.

"Yeah, well I'm sure Shane got too shy after he came to save us in the bathroom and we told him Brendon was just hallucinating."

"Didn't his hallucinations stop months ago?" Frank asked.

"Exactly. Shane's pretty stupid."

"If only pills would cure that asshole's homophobia too," he remarked.

"Nah, it's fun pissing him off," I laughed. Frank nodded in agreement. "Seriously, though. I don't care what Brendon fucking Urie thinks of us. You're way more important to me than his shitty opinion. I would want the whole world to know about my cute boyfriend named Frankie. They'd all be jealous."

"Stop," Frank giggled, covering my mouth with his hand. I bit him. "Ow!" he exclaimed, and pulled it away. 

He got up to check the time and then sat down on my lap, facing me, both of us with our legs outstretched.

"We have group therapy in ten minutes," he groaned.

"Well, at least we get to sit through that hour of hell together today," I said, shrugging. "Though, I really don't feel like hearing Andy tell his fucking murder story _again_."

"He says it every single time," he laughed. "Why does Lindsey ask him every week?"

"No clue," I said. "I don't know how she can stand to listen to him every time."

"So what's your story?" Frank asked. "We already know everyone else's, and you know mine."

"Well, you know I'm schizophrenic. It was pretty easy for everyone to tell. I heard voices and people calling my name a lot and my mom noticed. And Bert's not the first invisible friend I had. I got sent here after my little brother Mikey came home and saw me practicing with my band. I don't have a band. Apparently, none of the guys in it were real."

"So he walked in and saw you talking to and playing fucking music with, what, four imaginary people?" Frank asked, stifling a laugh. "I'm sorry. That's not funny. It's just when you imagine his face-"

"It _is_ funny," I replied. "Go ahead, laugh."

"Well at least it's not as bad as Bob and Ray. I was talking to them the first day I came here. They were both suicidal. Bob tried to drown himself. In his bathtub. And he didn't even fill it, there was like a half a foot of water because he said he didn't want to _waste water_. "

I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to stop myself from bursting out laughing.

"And Ray tried to be smart and kill himself with carbon monoxide poisoning. Except he got confused and tried to use carbon _dioxide_ instead. He just kept breathing out fast while sitting in his room with the door closed. One of his brothers told his mom he was being weird and she sent him here."

"Oh my god," I laughed. "I feel super guilty."

"Don't be," Frank replied. " _I_ felt guilty when I cracked up in front of them as they told me their tragic stories."

"Wow, that made me feel a lot better about myself, though," I remarked.

Frank leaned forward and kissed me.

"You're adorable and I love you," he said.

"I love you too," I replied, pressing my lips against his.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :) This was my first fic, and I thought it would be fun to try a mental hospital AU. I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you liked reading it!


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